Poetry Thread

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The Abacus
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Poetry Thread

Post by The Abacus »

A thread dedicated to poetry.

Daffodils by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
Last edited by The Abacus on 12 Apr 2013 00:14, edited 1 time in total.
Balance is imperative; without it, total collapse and destruction is imminent.
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WorldisQuiet5256
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Re: Poetry Thread

Post by WorldisQuiet5256 »

The Raven
by Edgar Allan Poe

First Published in 1845

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Lenore?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
"Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
" 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore,---
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never---nevermore."

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore---
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted---nevermore!
WHERE DO WE COME FROM
WHAT ARE WE
WHERE ARE WE
GOING
Boingo
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Re: Poetry Thread

Post by Boingo »

The idea of it is to be a poet,
But alas, although you don't know it,
Your verses are sappy, and really rather crappy,
Your Vocabulary you must learn, to grow It.
-Anonymous

Whenever you see a a hearse go by,
remember one day you've got to die,
ooh ahh, ooh ahh, how happy we shall be.
First they wrap you in a clean white sheet, and then they drop you down thirteen feet,
all goes well for about a week, and then the coffin begins to leak.
Your teeth fall in and your eyes fall out, and maggots play ping pong on your snout,
Your fingers rot, and so do your toes, your brains come tumbling out yer nose,
after a while your face turns green, and pus pours out like clotted cream,
the worms go in and the worms go out, they go in thin and come out stout...so...
Whenever you see a a hearse go by,
remember one day you've got to die,
ooh ahh, ooh ahh, how happy we shall be.
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WorldisQuiet5256
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Re: Poetry Thread

Post by WorldisQuiet5256 »

I'm not afraid to die
I just don't go looking for death
WHERE DO WE COME FROM
WHAT ARE WE
WHERE ARE WE
GOING
The Abacus
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Posts: 2877
Joined: 04 Dec 2012 10:41

Re: Poetry Thread

Post by The Abacus »

Well, this was unexpected.
Balance is imperative; without it, total collapse and destruction is imminent.
Boingo
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Re: Poetry Thread

Post by Boingo »

:mrgreen:
My least favorite teacher made us study one of my favorite poems to death last year...i was not impressed.
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The Kakama
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Re: Poetry Thread

Post by The Kakama »

Since this this about poetry, I guess I can post this:
There is a poem, written by a Malaysian, in Malay, that has been translated to English, and gets passed as English literature; it doesn't seem fair.
Is this my final form?
Boingo
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Re: Poetry Thread

Post by Boingo »

Which is...?
The Abacus
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Re: Poetry Thread

Post by The Abacus »

I wrote this a few months ago (I think you can guess the source of inspiration for the reoccurring theme :D):
King of the Cliffs
Limestone mountainous outcrops,
That hover above the sea,
With their large crooked face.
A breeze constantly flows at its staggering summit,
Causing the vegetation to dance.
Looking down at the deep sapphire ocean,
I see the beauty of height.

Up here, I am king,
I can see all there is,
For kilometers to come.
Blindfold removed,
I see what others have not,
The simplicity of the origins of happiness.

When I look down,
I am not afraid,
Below that marine blue,
Is a different world filled with fascinating spectacles.
When the breeze whistles I am not disturbed,
With it brings the smell and taste of what lies below.

Up here, I can feel the majesty of these cliffs,
With their astounding height,
And natural wonders.
The sights and sounds,
Only few appreciate.

Up here the heavens will open before me,
Concealed glory unearthed.
Give me wisdom and knowledge,
as vast as the sand on the seashore,
I ask for this,
For up here, I am king.
Balance is imperative; without it, total collapse and destruction is imminent.
Rooster5man
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Re: Poetry Thread

Post by Rooster5man »

Are they the Cliffs from SNEE? :P

Regardless, very nice! :D
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